Casa Loma: the house that Henry built: how a castle in downtown Toronto helped us win the battle of the Atlantic in WWII.

FOR THE LAST THREE QUARTERS of a century the Kiwanis Club has been the faithful steward of Casa Loma, the magnificent 98-room mansion that sits atop Spadina Road in Toronto.

From its commanding position on the escarpment, the castle that Toronto's famed EJ. Lennox designed gives an impressive view of Toronto to the visitors who have the energy to climb up the many towers and parapets that give the building its impressive height.

Lennox designed the whimsical residence for Sir Henry Pellatt, one of Canada's richest men, in the early 20th century. Pellatt was able to hold on to the home from 1914-1923 before going bankrupt and taking several banks with him. In the 1910s and 1920s Canada had about 7 million people and 53 banks. These banks were not nearly as big as the five that currently run the national financial industry; they were smaller, more local and heavily leveraged against the building of Pellatt's castle.

In 1923 the personal bankruptcy of Sir Henry Pellatt caused a chain reaction that took out dozens of banks and prompted the federal government to enact safeguards to protect against bank failures caused by unsafe lending (although updated since the 1920s, these measures have been credited for helping guide Canada's financial industry through recent economic storms).

In the 88 years since Pellatt was forced to foreclose on his glorious estate, the castle has been many things--a hotel, a music venue, a wedding and banquet hall, and a museum in its current incarnation. But one role Casa Loma played would turn the oak wood-panelled rooms and Roman stone walls into so much more than a playboy's show home--it would house the production of the ASDIC sonar device, a tool that was essential for protecting Allied ships against German submarines in World War II.

For starters, it helps to understand what the ASDIC is and how it came to be built in Toronto. ASDIC", named for its inventors, stands for Anti-Submarine Detection Investigation Committee. It came into use in 1941 and laid the foundation for today's sonar technology. Once a ship was fitted with the ASDIC it could detect a U-boat at a distance of a few miles. At that distance the device could read the U-boat's depth within a foot, its distance within a few yards, its speed to within a fraction of a knot, and its course to within a degree. Needless to say, this machinery was greatly desired and the secrets of its construction were highly prized.

This is where Casa Loma comes in. The original construction site for the ASDIC was located in London, England, but it was destroyed shortly after Hitler unleashed Blitzkrieg on the British Isles. Canada was thought to be immune to aerial attack by the Nazis and was chosen to take over ASDIC production.

William Corman of Engineering Company Ltd. was charged with the task of locating a ready-made site equipped with high ceilings, ample floor space and access to rail lines. Casa Loma seemed like the perfect place if you follow the adage that the best place to hide something is in plain sight (also, there are freight train tracks just south of the castle on Dupont).

So secret was this project that even the local Toronto government was kept in the dark about what was going on in one of the city's most visited tourist destinations. The only things that kept the viewing public from stumbling upon the heart of one of the Allies' vital military operations were a one-dollar padlock on the doors to Pellatt's once grand stables and a sign that read "Construction in Progress-Sorry for the inconvenience." Being a deferential people, especially when it comes to polite signage, visiting Canadians left well enough alone and the project was kept a secret throughout the war.

Safe and secret production of the ASDIC devices provided Allied ships with an edge in staying safe and the ability to hunt more convoy-destroying U-boats. For its contributions to the war effort, Casa Loma should be recognized as a special place, but instead it finds itself once again facing danger of destruction, not from Nazi spies but from those who would rather take the building apart and put up a condo or hotel instead. It's important for people to understand the rich history of this place and to do that, one should start by understanding its first owner.

In 1910 Sir Henry Pellatt retired with the rank of Major-General from the Queen's Own Rifles regiment and was made Commander of the Royal Victorian Order. Five years before that Sir Henry was knighted by Edward VII. Pellatt became wealthy by investing in the next sure thing in early 20th century Canada-electricity. He and Adam Beck are credited with bringing electricity to Southern Ontario by harnessing the power of Niagara Falls. Once he was made rich by the exploits of hydro-electricity, the utility baron sought to add a new landmark to the city of Toronto in the form of the largest private residence in the country.

Not one to skimp on any detail, Pellatt hired famed yet maligned Toronto architect E.J. Lennox, who had designed another Toronto landmark now known as Old City Hall in 1899. Lennox took on the monumental project in three parts but, due to the length of the construction time and the financial instability of his employer, Lennox was only able to complete phase one of three - the main house and stables.

Today, the debate rages on about whether or not Lennox's whimsical creation should have been razed once Pellatt lost his money in the early 1920s. The argument against Casa Loma is that the site is a money pit. Twenty million dollars have been sunk into it over the last 12 years alone and that was just in repairs. Neglect throughout the late 1980s and 1990s had left Casa Loma in rough shape and, by the time the city decided to do something, the building was about ready to collapse.

Toronto is not the best place to put a heritage building. The city has de strove d 85 per cent of its historic buildings, but despite seldom having a clear vision for its bizarre castle, the city has recently sunk another $1.45 million into it. The money will go toward acquiring some more artefacts to place in the museum and to buy the trademark of its name. But with attendance dropping five per cent a year, it is unlikely the city will have better luck getting Casa Loma to turn a profit any better than the Kiwanis Club did.

When Henry Pellatt died in March of 1939, thousands lined the Toronto streets to watch his funeral procession. Today's Torontonians seem to have resigned themselves to the possibility that they may have to do the same for his former house. Our military history is only kept alive by the people who choose to honour it and preserve its memory. In the case of Casa Loma it is not only the memory that needs to be preserved.